Captivate Me (Book One: The Captivated Series) (30 page)

That was the last time I saw him – the
boy who’d once captivated me. The boy I had been prepared to give
everything to.

Stupid me.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE

___________________

Half Alive

I called my parents once
I’d gathered my wits, barely; they dangled from my arms,
threatening to jump ship. To be honest, I don’t know how I managed
to hold it together long enough to endure my mom’s emotional
breakdown and convince her I was okay enough to stay, that
she
was okay enough for
me to stay until the school decided what to do with us. I nearly
lost it when I heard my dad in the background cussing out the
school and the police department, asking how the hell this could
have happened and throwing in a few other choice words. I knew his
Irish blood was boiling, and he was on the brink of committing
homicide over something happening to his little girl. The thought
of them suffering as much as I had was the hardest to bear. I
suppose the only reason I
did
hold it together was a matter of will and, being
half angel, the God-given strength and resilience placed within me
at birth.

After hanging up with my mother, I
made my way to Sarah’s room. I found her on her bed, curled into a
fetal position and hugging a pillow. Dawson, Anna and Ivy all sat
on Ivy’s bed watching her as though she was as fragile as a cracked
egg.

I said nothing, knelt in front of her
so I could catch her silvery eyes. A silent understanding passed
between us – the loss, the fear and the uncertainty of our future.
I took her head in my hands, pressed my forehead against hers, and
we cried.

A little part of us died that
day.

* * *

The following days went by at an
agonizing pace.

The school was given permission to
stay open and beef up security. Word had it all three schools for
the gifted had ramped-up their security to be on the safe side.
Some kids at Midland Pines chose to relocate to another school,
some moved home, but most stayed. For those of us directly involved
with the ‘incident,’ as most here referred to it, we were required
to visit the school counselor at least once a week. My first visit
was uncomfortable to say the least. I wasn’t keen on exposing my
deepest wounds to a stranger. We mostly exchanged pleasantries and
she asked me a few personal questions, probably to help break the
ice. Maybe I would eventually feel comfortable opening up to her.
Maybe.

On the outside, I felt
like a droid going through the motions – sleep, eat, school. Sleep,
eat, school. Doing what I had to do to make sure I didn’t give into
the hopelessness lingering at the fringes of my mind. On the
inside, I was half-alive. The part of me that
was
alive felt tired and broken,
because that part of me was in the woods with Gabriel. I still felt
the pull to him sometimes – a constant reminder of how foolish I’d
been. I couldn’t sleep, had to force myself to eat. But everyone
else had returned to normal, like none of it had ever happened.
That’s the thing about depression – it feels like suffocating,
except you can see everyone else breathing around you. Only Sarah
and I felt the burden of our future, of the constant threat. The
weight of it all.

It didn’t help that I thought about
him all the time, saw him at night when I closed my eyes. I wanted
to hate him, but all I could do was miss him; how strange when we’d
only known each other three days. Maybe it’s because we were so
comfortable together. Everything was easy, familiar – like being
home in front of a warming fire. I felt like I’d already known him
for so long. Or maybe it was the promise I was mourning – the
potential of a long happy life with someone like me, with someone
who was just as smitten with me I as was with him. But all of that
was a lie, a façade of his and Iris’ to get me to come
along.

I’d asked myself a hundred times if I
would have gone with them if Gabriel hadn’t been a factor, and the
truth is, I honestly don’t know. My plans before I’d met them were
to go to college to get an art degree and pursue a career, maybe
even teach. But now? Now that my immortality loomed over me,
reminding me that I could never have permanent roots anywhere and
witches were always on the hunt, I just didn’t know. I felt lost –
one of the worst things anyone could feel.

I’d be lying, though, if I
said I didn’t often wonder how he and the others were faring since
they’d lost Raymond. What their decisions would be for
their
future. I’d also
be lying if I said I didn’t feel like the biggest jerk in the world
for not being there to mourn with them; they’d lost so much. But so
had I. I found myself praying one night for my memories of them to
be removed. I even fantasized about risking my life to hunt down a
witch just to see if there was a spell that could excise Gabriel
from my mind. I wanted to forget the way he made me feel. Our first
kiss. The false hope of a new family and existence. All of it. I
mainly feared I would always compare what we had to everyone else,
even if it was a lie, and nobody else would meet those standards.
Because even though he might have been faking his feelings for me,
everything I’d felt for him was real. Consuming. Almost
magical.

As far as Levi and I went, our status
as friends held steady. The others noticed how we’d quit being
affectionate and would even sit apart from each other at lunch, but
nobody pried. I wondered if I looked as breakable as I felt and
they were afraid to even ask.

Despite Sarah being immortal, both she
and Dawson were trying to make it work. Unlike me and Levi, their
pieces fit together. They had a love worth fighting for.

One thing that helped keep me going,
if only through the day-to-day motions, were my calls home. My
parents knew now about my immortality and the threat of witches.
Though it was hard for them to admit at first, they knew I was
safer here than at home and encouraged me to stay until graduation.
They’d even made plans to visit for the holidays so I wouldn’t risk
my life to see them. Principal Hughes even agreed to let my cat
Tinkles tag along. I was counting down the days to Thanksgiving
break – two-and-a half months away. The thought of wrapping my
family in my arms was like a healing balm to my wounds. Some of
them.

Speaking of family, once I told them
how to test Samuel’s blood, they did. He wasn’t immortal, and I
rejoiced at the news. Once upon a time I didn’t want to live
without him, but now he would be safe from witches and the daunting
decision of either hiding his immortality from the world and
braving said witches, or choosing to live as a borderline prisoner
in a hybrid compound tucked away in the wilderness. I wished that
on no one.

As for me, I was still undecided.
Still lost. Detective Trueblood’s card sat on the desk beside my
bed. I stared at it every day. Sometimes the idea appealed to me;
sometimes the thought of it made my stomach clench with nauseating
panic. Holed-up, never to leave. Stuck with a decision I might
regret. Like Detective Trueblood had said, I had time to sort it
out. At least until graduation. That was the deadline I’d given
myself. Although my heart ached to go home, to hear the familiar
crackle of a fire, to lie in my own bed with purple sheets, to feel
the creak of the floorboards beneath my feet, I vowed to never go
back there again. I wouldn’t lead witches to them in case one
decided to hunt me. I saw now what they were capable of. I couldn’t
do that to my family just for a visit.

But if I didn’t go there, that meant
I’d have to brave the world alone, maybe. Sarah and I had talked
about possibly moving in together somewhere. She wasn’t keen on
compound life, either, and Detective Trueblood wasn’t sure they’d
let Dawson live there, him being a mortal. Visit? Yes. Live there?
It was up to whoever ran the camp. He said he’d ask, but he’d yet
to report back.

So much unfinished. So much unknown.
Such is the life of an immortal, I guess.

* * *

Today marked four weeks since the
‘incident’ – a solid month. I was getting better at blocking
intrusive memories of what had happened, thanks to my sessions with
the counselor. My recurring nightmares of the ‘incident’ were
shorter and less involved, my depression at the cusp of melting
away. Time really was the best healer.

The only thing that I couldn’t block
was my pull to the woods. Yes, the pull remained. Gabriel and the
others must have decided to stay. Why wouldn’t they leave? Move on
from here and all the sad memories? Despite myself, every now and
then I’d linger at the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of him and
wondering if he could see me. Every now and then I’d wake up and
hope to see a flower resting on my pillow. I don’t know why; maybe
I was masochistic and liked to torture myself. Or maybe I was
hoping he’d show back up and say, “Just kidding! I really do love
you and want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

But he never came – further proof he
never cared. That it was all a lie.

God, I desperately wished
they’d move on from here.
This
wound would take longer to close. This one was
the deepest. That’s what I got for falling hopelessly and
recklessly for someone I hardly knew. But still… I missed
him.
The fake him
, I reminded myself, and continued working on my newest
painting – a beach I kept seeing in my dreams, between the ebbing
nightmares. A house on the edge of a rocky cliff, sea water
spraying up. The imagery calmed me and gave me an odd sense of
hope.

I’d destroyed the old one of the
woods. Not in a fit of rage – I still couldn’t bring myself to hate
him. I reserved all the hate for myself for being so stupid. I just
couldn’t look at the painting any longer. It reminded me too much
of him.

I heard Anna’s alarm go off over the
Lumineers song blaring through my ear buds, and I dabbled one last
bit of sea foam onto the crest of a wave. Some nights my dreams
woke me, and since the ‘incident,’ I couldn’t fall back asleep, so
I’d paint.

Time to get ready for
breakfast.

* * *

I stirred my oatmeal to let it cool,
and listened as Ivy and Anna gossiped about the latest happenings
at Midland. My curiosity quickly waned – I had no interest in who
was dating who. Sarah and Dawson were necking, as usual. Ronnie and
Levi were cutting up. Things almost felt pre-‘incident.’ It
comforted me.

There had been one new development in
our group – Hannah had started sitting at our table, and it was
actually at my request. She couldn’t find a place to sit one day,
and I’d made everyone scoot down to make room. Of course she’d
planted beside Levi. From then on, that had been her seat of
choice. Levi didn’t seem to mind, either.

I grinned and internally
rolled my eyes as she asked him to open her milk. She could very
well open her own damn milk… I knew what she was doing. But it was
cute.
They
were
cute. And now that I was out of the picture, something could happen
between them. Maybe one day she could mend the pieces I’d
broken.

The bell rang for our
first class, and we started for the hallway. Out of habit, I dug
through my bag.
Shit.
I’d forgotten my book again.

“Y’all go on without, me,” I sighed.
“I have to run back to my room. Forgot my book.”

Sarah flicked me on the shoulder. “You
big dummy. I’ll go with you.”

“No,” I insisted. “You’ll be late
too.”

“Like I care!”

“Let’s hurry.”

* * *

We came to my door, and I rushed
inside while Sarah waited at the threshold. I paused with a squeak,
the floor crumbling beneath me, my head spinning. Gabriel stood
beside my bed with a flower in hand, staring at my pillow with his
head hung. He jumped. “K-Kat…”

“Oh. my. God,” Sarah said behind me,
and I did the only thing I could think of – darted out of the room
and slammed the door.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO

___________________

Home Again

“Shit, Sarah! What do I do?” I stood
motionless, bewildered. After a month and a half, he’d come back to
my room. Why?

Sarah took my face in her hands; she
contemplated long and hard before she spoke. “Talk to
him.”

“Wait… what? You hate him! You said if
you ever saw him after what he did, you’d-”

“I know what I said,” she said in a
calm, measured voice. “But I think you should talk to
him.”

I was borderline hysterical now.
“That’s crazy! What do we even have to talk about? There’s nothing
to say!”

“Trust me. You trust me
right?”

“But you
hate
him,” I
repeated.

“Kat…” she said, giving my head a
gentle shake, “…you trust me, right?”

“
Yes, but… I can’t do
this! I’m just beginning to get over him.”

She gave me a look.

“I’m
trying
to get over him,” I
corrected. And then it hit me. “You read his thoughts, didn’t you?
What did you hear?”